Die Reise nach Wien
July 18th, 2026
“You will not get to Vienna in this rustbucket”
Nearly fifty years ago I had to decide whether to say goodbye to my girlfriend at the airport, or drive her back to Vienna in order that we could spend some more time together before saying goodbye. A friend of hers owned an old Morris Minor ready for the scrap heap, in spite of which we accepted the offer of a loan. Such is the folly of youth.
Her friend had been persuaded to buy the 1962 Morris Minor for her German boyfriend Fritz to tinker with, satisfying his interest in old British classic cars. Unfortunately he didn’t know what he was doing and succeeded in making the car worse to the point it was less than fit to drive across Europe by anybody but a pair of 22 year old love birds too stupid to turn it down.
So it was that at the end of an academic year in the late 1970s the rust bucket was loaded with our belongings and we set out one afternoon from London towards Dover for an overnight ferry to Ostend, with our first stop being Amsterdam.
I can still remember the ship’s deck attendant smiling through the windscreen and indicating I should pull up the handbrake, him making the appropriate hand gesture, and me smiling back while pulling up a disconnected handbrake which did absolutely nothing, and then putting the car in second gear, turning the engine off, and letting the clutch up, to prevent the car moving should the weather worsen.
The lack of a handbrake was the first of many problems to be overcome on the journey. Next was my tiredness in trying to take on a journey from London to Amsterdam without much sleep leading to my driving into a kerb in Amsterdam early in the morning and bursting a front tyre.
We found a helpful workshop who replaced the burst tyre and balanced the front wheels thus eliminating the steering wheel vibration which had been a concern. This was an unexpected bonus.
A welcome night in the Amsterdam Youth Hostel prepared us for the next stage of the journey. I seem to remember a sleepy tour of the canals on the afternoon of our arrival but that may have been a dream. The lack of a handbrake made crossing roads beside small canal bridges in Amsterdam difficult, since it required frequent hill starts and I had to develop a “heel and toe” technique on the accelerator and brake to avoid rolling into the car behind.
Our progress was further hindered on bumpy roads by the sump hitting the road surface, with the risk of oil leakage, owing to “Fritz” having exchanged the original front wheels for smaller alternatives, lowering the front of the car, but without adjusting the suspension to restore the alignment, a job I had to take on later for the return journey.
The Belgian motorways were the next challenge where I took a wrong turn and ended up heading in the wrong direction, solved by doing what I have only seen happen in Lagos, Nigeria and crossing the central reservation to much sounding of horns from other vehicles. You couldn’t do it these days, there would be a barrier.
I have no idea where we crossed into Germany, but from then on our old car was the subject of much amusement and attention, especially from children, given that without exception all the other cars on the Autobahn were modern and fast, our 1962 “Moggie” being old, and slow, and unreliable. The missing air filter led to many roadside stops while I got out to clean the carboretteur, having to start the engine by hand the battery being old and nearly flat, and the dynamo (of which more later), not charging it fully.
In time we discovered a German roadside service called Edelweiss who much to our embarassment helped us more than once on finding us, yet again stopped by the roadside while I tried to blow dust out of the carb’ having no air filter to stop it. (Fritz had left it off, like the handbrake cable.)
In this halting manner we made it across Germany. We must have stopped somewhere for the night, I’m not sure where although Regensburg rings a bell, but my bi-lingual companion made the whole process simple, while I became an unwilling motor mechanic. If only I had known how much worse things would get.
At the Passau German / Austrian border we were asked to switch the engine off while our passports were checked, which was unfortunate since I knew from experience it wouldn’t start on the battery again and I didn’t want to use the starting handle in front of the border guards.
“Mit dieser Rostlaube kommst du nicht bis nach Wien” – the border guard was very rude
“You will not get to Vienna in this rustbucket”
Inevitably following this comment and the return of our passports I had to push the car across the concrete away from the border kiosks and start the engine once more by hand no doubt to the amusement of everyone watching but I was too engrossed to care. We got going again and entered Austria.
Without a shadow of a doubt the most pleasant and enjoyable part of the entire journey was the section along the Danube, Passau, Linz, Melk – then on to Wien. I was informed that at Melk a famous monastery exists, although we didn’t stop to see it. Somewhere between Melk and Vienna two things happened to the car.
The dynamo retaining bracket had been removed by “Fritz” for no apparent reason, causing the belt tension to slacken over time having only the mounting bolt torque to hold it. This was a disaster waiting to happen because it meant my having to excessively set the belt tension, and the torque on the mounting bolt nut, to get the belt to grip, while wearing out the dynamo bearings prematurely and leading to frequent belt breakages. As a direct result I soon ran out of fan belts, and a pair of tights were used at a petrol station in place of a fan belt in order to reach Vienna with headlights.
Worse was to come. An hour before Vienna I changed into third gear only to feel something give, and as I attempted to change up into fourth gear I could not. I found out why later beneath the car in a garage in Vienna. The third and fourth speed selector rod had moved too far back as I changed into third gear, allowing a spring driven plunger to move blocking further movement. From then on we had no fourth gear and were limited to a top speed of about 40mph.
Such was the situation as we arrived safely in Vienna, in the dark, not far from Schönbrunn Palace.
Die Reise nach Wien – iii
July 18th, 2026
“Das lichtmaschine ist kaput”
After two eventful weeks in the Austrian capital we said our goodbyes. It was the end of a relationship for me and so a blue return home alleviated by the company of a bi-lingual native who knew the region. The journey would have been far more difficult without him which leads me to wonder if he had been encouraged to travel on my behalf as much as his own desire to visit London.
I don’t remember the journey back from Vienna until the German city of Wurzburg where the red light on the dashboard came on once again indicating a loss of charging from the dynamo and this time it was terminal. “Das lichtmaschine ist kaput” were the mechanics exact words, late at night at a garage in Wurzburg, which is where from memory we spent the night while I believe the battery was charged while we slept, since there would be no more engine charging available.
Die Reise nach Wien – ii
July 18th, 2026
“I wouldn’t take that out if it was made of gold”
The evening of our arrival consisted of a welcome home for my girlfriend and a buffet. For me, meeting the family and at last a good night’s sleep – but the state of the car weighed heavily on my mind and the following days were devoted to its further repair.
My two week stay in Vienna involved spending the first few days underneath the car in a garage pit made available by a friend of the family. The missing fourth gear had become a priority being one of many items preventing any chance of a return to England in that vehicle, and I could not afford another.
Reports of my death …
June 28th, 2026
The absence of posts in recent years and the occasional down time may be ascribed to two different causes. The former owing to my relocation from Cambridge to Cromer in Norfolk, beyond easy reach of London, and the latter to technical issues.
“November 8th 2018 UPDATE: I went round Maiden Lane with a resident and two friends earlier this year to see what had been done. The new blocks are out of scale with the older blocks while mimicking them architecturally; and the sunken gardens are badly shaded.”
My last London visit was to Maiden Lane with Tom Cordell of Utopia London fame, in order to review the changes made by Camden to pay for long overdue maintenance of the estate. The architects added a tall block for private sale, built some additional low rise housing and painted the estate. See the quote above.
Norfolk
Cromer doesn’t offer the 55 minute journey to Kings Cross that Cambridge did, day trips and blogged walks have been out of the question for some years and don’t seem likely to return. I am unwilling to spend three hours each way on a train in order to spend not much more than that time walking the streets and will have to leave that to others in closer proximity.
City of Towers – Christopher Booker
May 4th, 2020
This film has reappeared in time for the 40th anniversary of its second showing on the BBC on 10th May 1980
Read the rest of this entry »
Election result explained from @Sheff_socialist
December 25th, 2019
The only sensible thing I’ve seen written about the election result since the day it happened.
Taken from @Sheff_socialist with link at the end:-
A long thread about my own personal experiences during this election dealing with my Labour voting family deciding to out themselves as casual racists by voting Tory / Brexit Party in traditional Labour “Red Wall” heartlands
I come from a genuine working class family .
Grandparents were miners and domestic cleaning staff
Dad was butcher , mum was a cleaner and when she remarried after their divorce she married a miner .
I grew up in a two up two down terrace house that my parents rented from the local Co-op society and then moved into a council house in Kendray (Barnsley) when my mum remarried
Single aspect flats
May 28th, 2019
I used to have a page here http://www.singleaspect.org.uk/?p=8
At some point during the several blog failures and restarts it was changed without my noticing
to here https://www.singleaspect.org.uk/?p=21425
So if you are looking for my page on single aspect flat from
February 9th, 2010
it’s here -> https://www.singleaspect.org.uk/?p=21425
Sorry for the confusion.
This archived blog
May 19th, 2019
We are moving house this year, even further from London, which will mean fewer if any trips to the capital. So the blog is over but remains useful (in my eyes) for its take on housing standards and as an easily accessible table of Parker Morris standards.